


A Sevenmas Carol

by Bellatrix_Wannabe_89



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - A Christmas Carol Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cersei isn’t terrible, F/M, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Merry Christmas!, No Incest, She’s just a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27842434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89/pseuds/Bellatrix_Wannabe_89
Summary: Cersei Lannister had better things to do then celebrate Sevenmas with her twin and his ugly wife. Ever since her partner Qyburn died it was up to her and her clerk Ned Stark to run her debt collection firm and she did. Very efficiently. She didn’t have time for such foolishness like good will towards men and holiday spirit, not when there was money to be made. Enter Qyburn in chains, three spirits, iconic lines that are out of place in the modern world and loads of fluffy holiday feels. Welcome to… A Sevenmas Carol.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Cersei Lannister & Qyburn, Cersei Lannister/Rhaegar Targaryen, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 53
Collections: Sevenmas & Other Winter Holidays





	1. Chapter 1

Anton Qyburn was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. Old Qyburn was as dead as a door-nail. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate... 

_Have yourself a merry little Sevenmas. Let your heart be light. Next year all our troubles will be out of sight._

Cersei threw down her pen, throwing a sharp glare at her clerk just outside her tiny little office. His back was turned to her but the music he was playing was loud enough to wake the dead. 

She pushed back from her desk crowded with files and folders and stormed out to the outer office where Ned Stark was bent over his own smaller desk, typing diligently away as Sevenmas music blasted from the tiny little radio on the edge of his desk. The blonde reached out and snatched it, turned it off and slammed it back down, glaring at the older man all the while.

“Are you deaf?!” she barked at the clerk. “Secondly there's no music at work, I’ve told you this countless times, Mr. Stark!”

Ned apologized in his thick Northern accent. “I just thought we might have a little holiday spirit. It is rather drab here,” he muttered and she had a strong feeling he was remembering just the week prior when Cersei threw away the tiny lighted tree he decorated his desk with.

“You don’t even celebrate Sevenmas!”

“No but my wife does, as do my children.” He allowed himself a smile that did nothing but annoy her further. “I’ve always loved the sentiment behind the holiday. A whole season dedicated to goodwill, peace on earth, helping your fellow man…” 

She rolled her bright green eyes to the ceiling. “It’s commercialized nonsense designed to sell toys to children who’ll get sick of them after three weeks.” She went back into her office before he could counter an argument. “People waste money on toys for spoiled kids, charity for the lazy and food for families they hate rather than pay their bills. Sevenmas is a very busy time for us. Mr. Stark. People preparing feasts, giving parties, spending the mortgage money on frivolities… One might say that December is the foreclosure season. Harvest time for the moneylenders. I’m probably the most hated person in King's Landing, Mr. Stark. Do you know why?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess, Ma’am.”

“Because I force people to take responsibility for loans they took out or credit they agreed to pay back. You’re always on about honor, isn’t it honorable to keep your end of a deal you made? Even if it is to money lenders and banks?”

“It is but a 40% interest rate-.”

“No one forced them to sign the paperwork.” She leaned back on her tall leatherback chair, resting her hands behind her head. “Qyburn forced a homeless shelter to go bankrupt because they couldn’t pay their loan back to him. The defaulters had to put the kids up in a motel room or they would have been on the streets on Sevenmas Eve and guess what? They never defaulted on another bill when they got back on their feet. No unnecessary parties, no unnecessary outings, no unnecessary toys or games or clothes, they didn’t take in more kids then they could afford, even if it meant some stayed on the street. We taught them responsibility, Mr. Stark.” 

A year later her partner and best friend was gone. Seven years ago this very night, in fact. Her clerk offered his condolences, the same as he did every Sevenmas Eve but Cersei always shrugged it off. Qyburn was old, and payroll had gone down from three to two (plus now that there were only two employees she could now pay Stark less than the legal minimum which helped save a few dollars too.) Her partner's death was a blessing in disguise, she told herself. Even still, years later, ‘Qyburn & Lannister’ remained on the sign outside the tiny office. People new to the business referred to her as both Mrs. Qyburn and Mrs. Lannister, it didn’t matter. She answered to both.

Cersei turned back to paperwork, grateful for the only sounds on soothing scribbles of pens and clicks of the keyboard until the sound of the front door opening and the cheerful voice of her twin cried out, “Merry Sevenmas, Ned Stark!” 

“And the same to you, Lannister,” Ned replied with a joyous grin. 

“I don’t pay you to socialize!” she yelled out to the clerk. 

Jaime just chuckled as he strode into her office. “Merry Sevenmas, Sweet Sister.” Cersei rolled her eyes, not looking up from her paperwork. “I said Merry Sevenmas.”

“I’m not deaf, Jaime, I heard you.”

“But you won’t return the greeting?”

“I won’t. What right have you to be merry anyway, you’re poor enough.”

“What right have you to be miserable, you’re rich enough.” He sat down at the desk, ignoring the cross look she gave at that. “Are you really that depressed?” 

“Not depressed, annoyed at foolishness. What’s Sevenmas but a time for wasting what little money you don’t have? If I could work my will,” said Cersei indignantly, “every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Sevenmas’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.”

“Cersei-.”

“You keep Sevenmas in your own way and let me keep it in mine.”

“But you don’t keep it!”

“Let me leave it alone then.”

Her brother rolled his eyes. “Sevenmas is a loving honest and charitable time. And though it's never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that Sevenmas has done me good and will do me good, and I say Gods bless it.”

The clerk involuntarily applauded.

“Let me hear another sound from you,” said Cersei, “and you'll be spending Sevenmas on the unemployment line.” That shut him up, and quickly too. “You're quite a powerful speaker,” she added, turning to her brother. “A wonder you don't go into politics.”

“Don’t be angry with me,” he begged. Jaime smiled, handsome and beaming. “Come and have dinner tomorrow with me and my wife.”

“Yes your _wife_ ; a great big ugly creature who walks around in men’s clothing. Why did you ever get married? To a poor schoolteacher at that?”

“Because I fell in love,” he answered sharply. “And Brienne loves me.”

“ **_Love_ **. The only thing sillier than a merry Sevenmas.” She scoffed and turned back to her paperwork. “Goodbye, Jaime.”

Jaime’s face fell. “Cersei, I don’t-... I know it’s been hard for you since father died-.”

“Goodbye, Jaime.”

“But I don’t want anything from you. I’ve never asked anything from you. Why can’t we just be friends like we used to be?”

“Goodbye, Jaime.”

He signed and stood up from his chair. “You’re not going to ruin this holiday for me. I’m going to be in good spirits, whether you like it or not. So I’m going to wish you a merry Sevenmas, and leave an empty plate on the table tomorrow with hopes you’ll drop by.” Jaime stood and walked out, stopping by Ned’s desk. “How’s the family, Stark?”

“All very well, thank you for remembering.”

“Of course. Have a merry Sevenmas.”

“Same to you.”

Another roll of her eyes and she turned back to her papers. As Jaime left, he let in two gentlemen, one old and thin the other young and portly, both pleasant to behold. “Mrs. Lannister I presume?” one asked as they walked into her office.”

“Yes. How can I help you gentlemen?”

“We’re from the Order of the Blessed Baelor Charity Fund. My name is Davos Seaworth, this is my associate Samwell Tarly.” She frowned at the two men. “During this festive time of year we head out to local businesses to collect funds for the poor and homeless.”

The blonde feigned fear and shock. “Have the prisons shut down?”

“The… the prisons?”

“The soup kitchens and shelters, are they still in operation? Do the poor still receive welfare and food stamps?”

The two men glanced at one another before turning back to her. “I-... Yes but-.”

She smiled. “Oh good. For a moment I was afraid something had stopped them in full force.”

Sam swallowed hard. “A- a few of us are raising a fund to buy the poor some food and drink this Sevenmas.”

“What shall I put you down for?” Davos asked.

“Nothing.”

“You wish to remain anonymous?”

She huffed and glared at the two men. “I wish to be left alone. I don’t celebrate Sevenmas, and I can’t afford to give idle and lazy people another break when my taxes go towards those institutions I mentioned.”

“Many can’t go there, and many would rather die.”

“If they would rather die,” said Cersei, “they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.”

The two men grew red in the face and she raised a perfectly arched brow at them, daring them to say something to her. “I have quite a bit of work, Gentlemen, you know- the thing that the people you’re collecting for refuse to do. Good day to you.”

Cersei turned back to her work, and the two men stormed out, muttering foulness under their breath that she ignored. 

The hours ticked by slowly, until finally the hour to close up was at hand. A dark heavy fog and a thick darkness covered King’s Landing alongside a bitter biting cold sank deep into men’s bones, but Cersei refused to allow the thermostat to rise above 62. Heat cost money she couldn’t afford to waste.

“You’ll want all day off tomorrow I suppose,” she grumbled to her clerk as she pulled on her coat.

“If it’s convenient.”

“It’s not convenient. And it’s not fair. If I docked half your pay you’d think me a raging bitch, but instead my pocket is picked every 25th of December for a day's wage with no work.”

Ned simply smiled. “It’s once a year.”

“A poor excuse. But fine; take the day off.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

She wrapped the scarf around her neck and pulled her hat down low over her ears. “Be here all the earlier the next day.”

“Of course.”

Without a look back towards her clerk, Cersei headed out into the sharp cold and heavy darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Cersei shivered as she walked through the cold biting even though her coat and warm layers. The streets of King’s Landing were abandoned, an oddity the night before Sevenmas and an eerie silence followed in its empty wake. Even the street lamps seemed dimmer than usual. A sharp wind blew, howling and moaning, and she had never been more grateful to see her building.

She jogged the last few steps, letting out a sigh of relief as she reached the rotating door. The blonde found herself in an empty lobby, another unusual sight that should not have been on Sevenmas Eve. She hurried to the elevator bank, her heart pounding hard against her ribs the whole time.

“You’re being stupid,” she muttered, pressing the up button over and over, faster and faster, hurrying inside and pressing the close button over and over and she could have sworn just before the doors slid closed a face appeared in front of her.

A very familiar face.

Cersei backed up against the wall of the elevator, breathing hard. She was being stupid. She just scared herself with nothingness, she was fine. She just needed a good meal and a long sleep. Cersei stepped out of the elevator and walked down the long hallway to her apartment, but as she went to put her keys in she stopped cold. 

Where her doorknob should have been was a face. A face she knew well. Qyburn’s face. 

It had a dark and dismal light about it, neither angry or ferocious, but unblinking, unmoving, eyes wide open but perfectly motionless. His hair was curiously stirred, as if by breath or hot air. 

“Cersei….” he moaned, loud and long. Cersei stumbled back, hand clutching her chest but when she looked more closely the ghostly face was gone, a door handle once more. 

“This is ridiculous,” she told herself, racing inside and double bolting the door. She hurried to flip on her lights and she swallowed hard when she saw her bedroom in the far corner, lights off and the door wide open as she had left it that morning. 

She got out of her phone and turned on her flashlight, and trembling greatly Cersei walked to the bedroom, taking a long deep breath before she reached in and flipped the switch on, biting back a cry of fright as she did. She glanced around the room, swallowing hard, terrified to check the nooks and crannies but too afraid to leave any of the corners unchecked.

When she felt she had sufficiently cleared the room, she headed back out into the kitchen, turning on every lamp and light in the house as she did, and poured herself a glass of wine to try to settle her nerves. 

Cersei sank down on her couch, sighing with content as she brought the glass to her lips. But before she could take a sip her phone rang. Groaning, she set the glass down and picked it up, her heart jumping into her throat and her blood running cold as she looked at the name on the screen she hadn’t received a call from in seven years.

“It’s someone messing with me,” the blonde announced out loud, slamming the phone face down. “It’s a prank, a hoax. I’m fine.” Her phone rang again and she gnawed at her lip so hard she tasted blood. 

She had silenced it before she put it down. 

With a trembling hand she reached out and picked up the phone again, seeing Qyburn's name on the screen once more. Shaking, she answered it and put it to her ear.

“H- hello?”

“Cersei…..” Qyburn's familiar voice groaned again, and when she looked at the screen his face was there; ghastly grey and former brown eyes milky white and unblinking as he stared at her.

She cried out and threw the phone across the room, the lights dimming when it fell to the floor. The sound of heavy clanking chains dragging on the floor came from outside her apartment, getting closer and closer with every breath. Cersei stood, hiding behind her couch and watching with horrified eyes as the chain locking the door slid open and the locks untumbled from the inside, flinching as the door slammed open. A moment passed and then he was walking through her doorway.

Dressed in the fine suit he was buried in it was now grey and dark, his entire self translucent. Heavy iron chains wrapped around her old friend and fell to the floor, metal money boxes dragging behind with every step he took. He didn’t look at her but instead stared straight ahead unbreathing, unflinching. 

“Who-.... who are you?” she asked, voice trembling.

He reached inside his mouth, pulling on a long black thread, his jaw falling open suddenly as he pulled it out of his mouth.

“Ask me who I was,” he told her in that calming eerie voice.

“I don’t think semantics matter much right now where but who- who were you?”

“In life I was your partner. Alliser Qyburn.”

Cersei flinched at the answer. She looked over the man. Ghost. Thing. “This is insane,” she muttered to herself. “This is insane,” she said louder. “I’m- im dreaming, I’m hallucinating. You aren’t real! None of this is real!”

On the wings of the wind he rushed over to her, jaw unhinging and falling to his breast and screeching an unholy inhuman sound, clanking his horrible chains all the while. Cersei screamed and fell to the floor, shaking so hard her teeth chattered. 

“Please!” she sobbed, lifting her hands in surrender. “Please, don’t hurt me!”

“WOMAN OF THE WORLDLY MIND, DO YOU BELIEVE IN ME OR NOT?!”

“I do!” she cried, lifting her hands in surrender. “I do, I do, I must, please!”

Qyburn eased off her, his expression blank and unflinching once more. Cersei swallowed hard and stood from her spot behind the couch. “Wh- why are you here?” she asked her old friend, trembling.

“For your welfare, Cersei.”

“I would think being haunted and terrified wouldn’t exactly be great for my welfare.” Not knowing what else to do, she swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “Can you sit?”

“I can.”

“Do it then.”

Qyburn slowly sat down in the chair closest to him, and Cersei slowly followed suit, taking a seat as far away from him on the couch as possible. “Every man’s spirit is required to walk amongst his fellow men,” Qyburn began. “To do good deeds, to be caring, generous, decent in mind and spirit. If not; you are damned. Rather than spend eternity with your loved ones and with the Father, you must witness what you cannot share, but might have shared and turned to happiness.”

He cried out again, rattling and shaking the horrible chain.” Cersei flinched, looking over the spectre. “Why are you chained?” 

“I wear the chain I forged in life,” replied the Ghost. “I made it link by link, and yard by yard. Your own chain is as heavy and long as this, Cersei, seven Sevenmas eves ago and ever since you have labored on it, it is a ponderous chain!”

She looked down, expecting fifty or sixty feet of metal coils but found nothing. “I don’t see any chain…”

“Mine were invisible until the day of my death. As yours will be.” 

She shook her head. “No… no, none of this makes any sense. Qyburn, you were such a hard worker, you were such a good businessman.”

“Business!?”cried Qyburn, wringing its hands again. He seemed as close to tears as he could get. “Mankind was my business! The common welfare was my business! Charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business! The dealings of my trade were nothing but a drop of water in the ocean of my business!'

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, please calm down. Please, Qyburn. Don’t… I don’t want all this gloom and doom, please. Tell me something good, something comforting. Tell me how I can help you.”

“You cannot. As I said, Cersei, I’m here for your sake. You will be visited by three spirits tonight.”

Her face fell. “More hauntings?”

“Except the first spirit when the bell tolls one. Expect the second when the bell tolls two. The third will appear in its own good time.”

“Can’t I meet them all at once? I don’t want any more ghosts or spirits or anything like that.”

“Without these visits, you cannot hope to avoid my fate. Look to see me no more, Cersei.” He rose and Cersei with him. “Remember the friendship between us.” Without so much as another word, Qyburn turned and headed towards the window which rose the closer he came. As if suspended by magic, he rose out the window and faded away in the dark.

Cersei followed, shutting the window behind him, the lights in her apartment coming on again. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “None of that was real, none of it.” 

She ran a hand through her hair, downing the rest of the wine in her glass and another half one for good measure before she went to her bathroom and readied herself for sleep. When she was done, she climbed into bed, pulled the blankets over her and rested her head.

“Ridiculous,” she muttered to herself. “This is all absolutely ridiculous...”

With that word on her tongue, her eyelids grew heavy and she soon fell asleep...


	3. Chapter 3

Cersei wasn’t sure how she managed to sleep but she did. She was sleeping so heavy that even her dreams were dark. It was a good long sleep until her phone rang with an alarm she hadn’t remembered setting.

She groaned, sitting up in bed as she reached for her phone and silencing the alarm. “One AM,” she sighed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Where is this- AH!”

A bright white light filled the room and she shielded her eyes from the shocking whiteness. “What the hell?!” The ball of light shrunk, growing smaller and smaller until in its place was a young boy with light blonde hair and eerily calm moss green eyes wearing pale green furs.

“Who are you?” she demanded on the boy. “What are you doing in here?” Her face fell and she swallowed hard when she remembered the meeting with her former partner. “Are… are you the spirit that Qyburn told me about?”

“I am.” His voice was as still as a pond. “I am the Ghost of Sevenmas Past.”

“Long past?”

“Your past, Cersei. It is for your welfare that I am here.”

She let out a humorless laugh. “A good night's sleep would do more better welfare than anything you can show me I promise.”

“Be careful, Cersei Lannister,” he warned. “I speak of your salvation.”

The blonde swallowed hard and nodded, standing from her bed. “Well… let’s get it on with it then.” 

The spirit stretched out his hand. “Take my hand,” he said. “And you shall see the light of the past.”

Cersei took a sharp breath, squared her shoulder and took hold. Her chambers melted away in a wash of bright white light and in its place was a beautiful snowy yard and a large handsome building made of red brick. Children and teenagers were rushing to and fro, laughing and screaming in merriment and joy, some throwing snowballs but many just hurrying to the waiting cars filled with eager parents.

“Casterly Rock,” Cersei breathed as a grin painted her face. “My old boarding school… Oh! Oh that’s Maggie! Maggie!” she cried out to the young brunette as she ran past. “And Melara! She was my best friend! Hi, Melara!”

“These are the shadows of the things that have been,” she spirit said. “They can neither see nor hear you. Come.”

Her spirits dampened slightly, but even still seeing them all again brought a rare smile to her face. A flood of memories came back to her as Cersei beheld her old classroom. The desks, the smell of the chalk, she knew it all so well. They walked up to the abandoned dorms and walked through the wall and came to one room, and her face fell when she looked upon a young girl, 10 years of age with long golden hair and bright green eyes sitting on her bed and flipping through a magazine.

“My god…” the older Cersei breathed. “It’s me…”

“Cersei!” a girl called out, peeking her head in the doorway. “Cersei, why aren’t you gone yet? Aren’t you going home for Sevenmas break?”

The young Cersei scoffed without looking up. “Yeah, no thanks.”

“But Cersei-.”

“Oh my Gods, literally no one cares about Sevenmas! Will you stop bugging me?”

The older Cersei watched as the girl in the doorway shrugged and headed out and her younger self turned back to her magazine. “I was often alone,” she muttered to the spirit. “More time for reading and studying. The Sevenmas holiday was a chance to get some extra work done.” The young Cersei threw her magazine down and leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms in front of her chest as tears filled her eyes. “A time for solitude…”

“Let us see another Sevenmas in this place.”

She swallowed hard. “They were all very much the same… Nothing ever changed.”

The years performed their terrible dance and in a moment Cersei had seen her entire childhood pass. She went from a moody young girl to a striking teenager, but every Sevenmas stayed the same; alone in her dorm, no family, no friends. Until she was eight and ten, a woman grown.

“Cersei!” She turned around and saw her twin rush in, beaming at the younger girl, wrapping his arms around her. “Let’s go! Father’s waiting downstairs!”

“I don’t know about this, Jaime,” she muttered as he grabbed her suitcase. “Tyrion is there-.”

“Oh so what, Cersei? You can’t be crazy enough to still blame him for mother’s death.”

“I do,” she said sharply. “I hate seeing that little imp.”

Jaime’s smile fell and she felt a rare rush of guilt. She still hated Tyrion, but looking at him now Jaime looked positively heartbroken at the animosity of the two siblings. He loved them both, with insurmountable adoration. “Cersei, please. Father is sending you to Storm's End University at the start of the new semester, I’m not going to get to see you again. Can’t we all just get along this one Sevenmas?”

Cersei pursed her lips at her brother. “Fine,” she snapped. “Three days. Then I’m leaving.”

The older Cersei watched as her younger self stormed out with Jaime following close behind. “You haven’t celebrated a Sevenmas with your family since,” the spirit interrupted her musings. “All for an unfounded hate on your kin.”

“Tyrion killed my mother,” she said, though with not near the malice as she usually spoke about him with.

“I see.” She turned a hateful gaze on the spirit. It was clear he didn’t understand just how much she loathed him. “I do,” the spirit said, making her shiver when she realized he could read her thoughts. “Though I would ask you to remind yourself that giving birth to twins, one of whom is breached, can wreck havoc on a body and can create problems for later births. If you are to blame Tyrion for ripping her apart, perhaps you should blame yourself as well.”

Cersei glowered and glared but said nothing. The boy stood from the desk he was sitting at and held out his hand once more. “Let us see another Sevenmas.” She took hold of his outstretched hand and a moment later the dorms faded away to reveal a crowded street covered with snow under a night sky dotted with stars. A large well-lit building stood in front her and Cersei felt herself grinning as she looked through the window at an old man with a plump face full of light and smiles.

“Tyrell... Mace Tyrell, my old boss, he always threw his Sevenmas parties here! I had my first job out of college with him, he was the only one willing to give me a chance!” Without waiting Cersei hurried through the wall and found herself amongst her old co-workers. 

Strings of colored lights and garland hung artfully around the ballroom and a large tree decorated with golden roses and flowers of all sorts stood in the corner, plentiful gifts under it that their boss would take to a charity drive later on that night. Silver and blue glittering snowflakes covered the frosted windows and a long table covered with homemade sweets stood against one wall, with a hot cocoa machine beside it. Sevenmas music was blasting from the stereos. There was heavy jubilance and joy in the air as the workers laughed and made merry.

A plump and pleasant man, jovial and generous and grinning ear to ear was finishing up a dance with his equally plump wife, their faces and laughter lighting up the room as they moved without skill but not one person watching seemed to mind. When the song stopped there was loud applause as Mace grinned to his employees and bowed to his audience. Something caught the corner of his eye and his smile grew tenfold as he hurried over what he had seen.  
  
Cersei followed him and she found her younger self, a woman of two and twenty fresh out of university, walk into the ballroom. Her dress was long and crimson, and a string of faux-rubies hung around her neck. Her long golden hair was artfully curled and twisted to one side, and she looked positively bored out of her mind.

“You made it!” Made cried happily, taking her by the hands and kissing her cheeks. There was no wanton lust in the older man’s eyes nor did his gaze drop to her heavy curves like most mens would have in a dress like this. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come!”

“You made it mandatory, Sir,” she reminded him. “Although I would be remiss in reminding you the Redwyne account still needs at least twenty more man hours before it’s ready to be seen by the clients.”

“No, no no no, no shop talk tonight! It's Sevenmas Eve, Cersei!” He led her to the snack table. “Go, go on, enjoy yourself, dance, try the cocoa, have some fun for once!”

A grin she fought so hard against showing made its way to the young girls face. “I’ll try, Sir.”

Mace clapped her on the shoulder, grabbed a gingerbread cookie and hurried back to the dance floor, looking twenty years younger. 

“Old Tyrell. A foolish man,” the spirit mused, drawing Cersei out of her memories.

She blinked. “Foolish? Why foolish?”

“What did he do to deserve the praises of all these workers and the smile of that young woman? Spent a few dollars? Baked a few treats? Danced like a monkey, beamed a great smile?”

“Well the happiness he gives- gave- was as if this party cost millions,” she said in adamant defense. She bowed her head and felt a guilt eat away at her. “Just small things…”

She wished she had Ned Stark in front of her right now.

The Cersei of the past sighed as she leaned up against the wall while the Cersei of the present watched with sad and knowing eyes as she watched a tall man with long silver hair in a blood red and pitch black suit make his way over to the snack table. He was strong and tall and broadly built, with warm violet eyes. 

“You look like you’re having the time of your life,” the man said to the young Cersei. The blonde turned and raised a perfectly manicured brow at the man while he just smiled as he offered her one of the sweets, a strawberry cookie with bright pink frosting, no doubt handmade by the Tyrell wife.

“I don’t eat carbs,” she told him with disinterest, and the man smiled.

“You’re forgetting that it’s Sevenmas.”

“So?”

“So by the laws of the Seven, carbs don’t count tonight.” A smirk made its way to her lips as she reached out and took the cookie, letting her fingers brush against his palm before she took a bite. “There, you see? No harm done in one little cookie.” He held out his hand. “Rhaegar Targaryen. I’m a friend of the Tyrell family.”

“Cersei Lannister,” she answered as she took his hand that he brought to his lips. A new song started up and he bowed before her, offering his hand.

“Care to dance, My Lady?”

Cersei snickered at the man but nevertheless took his hand. “You’re quite old fashioned,” she mused as Rhaegar led her to the dance floor. He held her tight against him and the two young people gazed into each other's eyes, wildfire green and valerian indigo as they twirled on the dance floor. 

“Not so old fashioned that I wouldn’t mind sharing a drink with you this Friday,” Rhaegar said, bringing a smile to her lips and a sparkle to her eyes.

“Old fashioned AND quick to the point,” Cersei said with a purr. “I like that in a man.”

“How long since you danced, Cersei?” the spirit asked.

“A waste of time, dancing,” she answered, unable and unwilling to take her eyes off of a laughing Rhaegar and her beaming younger self as they twirled on the dance floor.

“You didn’t think so then.”

“There was a reason then.”

The spirit stretched out his hand once more. “Let us see another Sevenmas with this man.”

“Please don’t,” the older Cersei begged. “I don’t want to see that Sevenmas.” But the spirit ignored her protests and grabbed hold of her hand anyway. The jubilancy of the party faded away and now they were in a crowded coffee house. Rhaegar, a few years older, was sitting at a table alone, looking at his watch impatiently with a heavy sadness on his face. The bell over the door rang pleasantly and a moment later Cersei, dressed in her work clothes, hurried over to him. 

“Hey you,” she purred. She went to kiss him on the cheek but he twisted well away from her. Cersei’s face fell. “What?”

“You’re late,” he muttered, running his finger over the rim of his coffee mug. 

“I was at work.”

“You’re always at work.”

“I’m just started a new business, Rhaegar. I have to work.” She scoffed as she took a seat, ignoring the now cold coffee he ordered her. “Acting like you want to get married and live in squalor, come on. Another year of saving and we can have the wedding of our dreams, we can live right in the middle of King’s Landing…”

A sad tearful smile made its way to his lips. “You said that last year. And the year before.”

“Business continues to be poor. But I’m meeting with a man tomorrow, his name is Qyburn and-.”

“Tomorrow? Tomorrow’s Sevenmas, Cersei.”

“And? Rhae, time is money and I can’t afford to waste it.”

He glanced down at the table, violet eyes growing wet. “Would you waste time on me?”

“Excuse me?”

“If we met today, would you give me a second look? Some poor librarian who works as a musician on the weekends?”

She pursed her lips at him for a moment. “You think I wouldn’t?”

He scoffed and shook his head, standing up from his chair. “As safe an answer as any I guess,” he spat, pulling on his coat. “You can keep the ring. It’s not worth much but I’m sure you could sell it for a few bucks.”

“Without a REAL diamond in it, I doubt it!” she yelled at his retreating back as Rhaegar stormed out of the coffee house, leaving Cersei alone with nothing but a cold cup of coffee, and an untouched strawberry cookie.

“I almost called him that night,” the older Cersei mused to the spirit. “When my father died, he left me a nice big sum of money. Rhaegar wanted to be married, insisting we could get on with very little but I wanted something bigger and better for the both of us. I lent out that money, and laid the foundations for financial success, which I have achieved I may add.”

The spirit smirked at her. “Congratulations.”

“And I'll thank you not to sneer,” Cersei snapped. “I’m done with you, I’m done with this, take me home!”

“You have explained what you gained,” the spirit said, taking hold of her hand. “Now I will show you what you have lost.”

The coffee house faded away to an well decorated apartment and Rhaegar sitting at the kitchen table, laughing and grinning as three small children, two with long silver hair and a small boy with black curls, decorated gingerbread cookies, all of them covered in frosting and sprinkles and powdered sugar and giggling.

“Rhaegar,” Cersei breathed.

“Yes, Rhaegar.”

“And those are his children.” She glanced down at the floor. “They might have been mine.”

“The same thought occurred to me.”

The door opened and a beautiful woman with long black hair and grey Northern eyes walked in, arms full of bags and a grin on her face. “Hello, hello!”

“Mama!” the three children cried, abandoned their cookies and hurried over to the woman, wrapping their arms around her and covering her with frosting, but the woman simply laughed as she reached down and picked up the youngest boy with the curls.

“Come make cookies with us, Mama!” the girl begged, clutching at her coat.

“Of course my little love, but let me get my shopping put away first okay?” She kissed the boy on the top of his curls and set him down. Rhaegar followed her into the bedroom and took her in his arms, beaming at her the same way he once beamed at Cersei.

“You have fun shopping?”

“I did. I saw an old friend of yours today,” the woman said as she set the bags in the closet to be wrapped later that night. 

“Who was it?”

“Guess.”

“I can't,” he laughed. “I don't know… Cersei Lannister?”

“It was.” Rhaegar’s bright smile faded away. “I passed her office window and there she was, working away on Sevenmas Eve. Her partner, Qyburn is quite sick I hear and there she sat, alone. Quite alone in the world, I do believe.”

Rhaegar bowed his head. “Poor Cersei,” he mused sadly. “I feel sorry for her but… she made her choices in life.”

“I don’t need your pity!” Cersei spat, anger and grief and guilt seizing hold of her and gripping her painfully tight. 

“They can't hear you,” the spirit reminded her with amusement. Cersei rounded on the spirit.

“And as for you, I've had enough of you! Leave me alone! I said leave me ALONE!” she screamed, pushing the spirit as hard as she could. But she fell through the boy and fell to her own carpeted bedroom floor.

Cersei blinked as she kneeled, looking around her bedroom, no one but her and the night pitch dark outside.

“A dream,” she muttered to herself as she walked to her bed and laid down. “Nothing but a horrible nightmare.” 

She covered herself with her blankets and closed her eyes once more, hoping for an uninterrupted sleep for the rest of the night...


	4. Chapter 4

Cersei had barely closed her eyes when her phone alarm was blaring her awake again. She huffed, hitting the pillow with a fist but nevertheless sat up and looked around, awaiting the spirit.

“Where is he?” she muttered aloud to herself when a minute had passed, and then another. She rolled her eyes as three minutes past and she laid back down on the bed. “Qyburn was never really punctual,” she sighed, closing her eyes for the third time that night.

“ **COME IN! AND KNOW ME BETTER, WOMAN**!”

She jumped out of bed like a shot at the deep booming voice. A bright light was shining under her door, with twinkles and bells ringing in her ears. Cersei walked out into her living room, gasping at the sight that awaited her. Beautiful lights and bells and Ivy draped across her walls and furnishings, and besides a large tree trimmed with red and gold sat a large burly man, with wild red hair and a scraggly red beard to match, wearing a large robe of emerald green and trimmed with white fur. A wreath of holly sat atop his head like a crown.

“Come in!” the spirit boomed with a grin that took up half his face, “come in and know me better, woman!”

“Who are you?”

The man laughed, as loud and lively and boisterous a laugh as she had ever heard. “I am the Ghost of Sevenmas Present!” He stood from his throne of pine and silver and gold and held out his arm. “Take hold of my robe,” he commanded her with a grin and when she did her living room melted away and a crowded snowy bustling street took its place.

People were rushing about, speaking with merriment and song, presents and parcels and packages in their arms, food, all bundled up against the chill of a sunny winter morning.

“Where are we?” Cersei asked the spirit looking around the street.

“We’re on the most special of days; Sevenmas Morning!” He laughed again and began to stride down the street, his grin so infectious and delightful that its light couldn’t help but influence and fall upon others, and Cersei had to rush to keep up. “Where are we going?”

“We could go anywhere, and this picture would be the same,” he answered. The man held out his arm again and Cersei grasped it, the bustling street outside her door vanishing and fading into another street just as busy, just as loud and joyful as the one outside his. Cersei could hear loud laughter coming from inside, and with a deep breath she walked through the door and found herself in the midst of a crowded room. Her eyes narrowed in dislike when she saw her dwarf brother with a beaming smile on his face and a twinkle in his pale green eyes as he sat on the edge of the chair, his arm wrapped around the waist of a short and dainty girl with dark brown hair.

“Of course Jaime would invite him,” she muttered, crossing her arms and eyeing him with loathing. 

“He invited you too, you know.”

Jaime and his wife, the great ugly beast, came out from the kitchen holding two bottles of wine and several glasses. His wife was a shy one, anyone could tell the way she smiled timidly at the guests, but Jaime looked at her with reverence and adoration. A string of sapphires as deep a blue as Cersei had ever seen on a silver chain hung around her thick neck.

“Are those real?” she gawked at the large stones.

“They are,” the spirit answered. “Your brother Jaime gave her to them this morning. She always wanted a sapphire necklace but she thought herself too ugly to wear them.”

“Well she’s not wrong there, but my brother is an idiot. She never would have known the difference between a real and fake sapphire, he could have saved himself hundreds of dollars.”

“Probably. But the smile on her face when she opened her gift and saw them made the charge on his credit well worth it a thousand times over.”

Cersei rolled her eyes to the heavens as she watched them, but deep down, _very_ deep down she told herself, her heart fluttered with the show of romance.

The crowd of them was all laughing, joy and merriment bright and clear in all their faces as they talked and joked, and Cersei pursed her lips at the scene.

“For someone who begged me to come with him the other day, he sure is having a great time without me.”

“What? You thought they’d all be miserable without your presence?” The spirit laughed a great big belly laugh, and Cersei huffed and turned away from, fighting to keep her features angry rather than disappointed.

“Well we’ve had dinner and sang the carols,” Jaime mused as he took a seat besides Brienne, holding her hand in his. “What do you all want to do neck?”

“Oh a game!” a young man they called Podrick cried out, the suggestion being met with acceptance. “How about 20 questions?”

“I love that game!” Jaime said, bounding up from his chair and grinning like a Cheshire Cat. “I got a good one.”

His good-father, a huge behemoth of a man, went first. “Is it a vegetable?”

“No.”

“Mineral?” Renly asked, leaning into his husbands arms.

“No.”

“Animal then?”

“What else?”

Shae pursed her lips. “Is it found on a farm?” she asked in her flavorful accent.

Jaime snickered. “Never.”

“In the city?” Brienne asked.

“Usually.”

“How about a dog?” asked Loras

“No.”

“A cat?” said Cersei, racking her brain for possibilities.

“A cat?” Podrick said two seconds later.

“I said it first,” Cersei said, but the answer was wrong anyway.

Jaime’s friend Addam took a shot. “Is this an unwanted creature?”

Her twin snickered at the question. “Often.”

“A mouse.”

“No.”

“A rat.”

“A cockroach.”

“No and no.”

“A leech!”

Jaime laughed, clapping his hands together. “Oh this is too good!” 

“Wait!” said Tyrion, a grin growing on his lips. “Wait! I know! An unwanted creature but not a rat, a leech or cockroach… It's Cersei!”

“Yes!”

The blonde's face fell as the gathered crowd all laughed, none so harder than Jaime and Tyrion. There was one woman though who didn’t laugh, and frowned at the cruelty at her good-sisters expense. Jaime caught his disapproving wife’s eye and he gave her a smile before he hurried over to her and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “It was just a joke.”

“That was mean, Jaime,” she said soft enough so her scolding couldn’t be heard over the laughter. “It’s Sevenmas Day, she’s still your sister.”

“Your right, you’re right.” He gave her another kiss and buried his hand in her short blonde hair. “I’ll be nicer next round okay?”

She returned the peck with another kiss and a grateful smile. 

“I can handle a few stupid jokes at my expense,” Cersei muttered, glaring at the tall woman. “I don’t need a big ugly beast like you defending me.”

The spirit chuckled humorlessly and nodded to a mirror hanging on the wall. “Look at that reflecting glass,” he instructed her, and Cersei rolled her eyes but did as he said, gasping when he saw the vision in it.

It showed Brienne dressed in the simply conservative outfit she had on but she was beautiful. More beautiful than any woman Cersei had ever seen, with long thick blonde curls, soft womanly curves, and a face that could have belonged to the Maiden Herself.

“Who is that?” gasped Cersei, looking back and fourth between the woman on the couch and the one in the mirror, sure that her eyes or the mirror was playing tricks on her.

“That is how that woman who just defended you, who you mock constantly, looks in the eyes of the Seven. Would you like to see how you look?” Before she could answer the spirit nudged her in front of the mirror.

Cersei shuddered in disgust as she looked at her reflection. She was old, bent over with a hunch, her left eye obstructed with a golden bushy, bristling eyebrow, while the right eye disappeared entirely beneath an enormous wart. Her fingers were long and gnarled, with long yellow nails that curled into her palms. The few teeth she had left were crooked and brown, many of which hung over chapped and dried lips. Her skin had the texture of of curdled milk, covered in warts and sores that oozed pus, and what little hair she had was thin and stringy and pale grey.

Cersei cried out in disgust and turned away from the mirror, trembling in fear. She would never mock Brienne for her looks ever again. She swore it to all Seven of the Gods.

“Come,” the spirit said, offering his robe once more. “We have one more stop.”

She sniffed away her tears and grasped tight of the robe, and a moment later they were in a rather poor part of the city.

Even here the jubilation of the day was clear. Boys and girls ran and screamed and shouted as they played with their new toys, and men and women walked hand in hand in a hurry on their way to visit family. The spirit led her into a run down building and up, up, up they climbed until they reached a door with a large wreath hanging on the door that they stepped through.

Cersei’s first thought was how noisy and crowded it was. Four children, ranging from five years of age to a boy of sixteen, were all shouting and screaming, talking and bustling around. A young girl was playing with a new skinny plastic sword, and another girl a bit older sat in a chair grinning as she made her knight and princess Barbie kiss and hold hands. The youngest boy had a nondescript plastic truck, and the oldest of the brood was admiring his new hoodie; grey with a fierce snarling wolf on the front.

The tree in the corner was white short, it’s branches rather bare but it was covered head to toe in homemade decorations and ornaments. The pile of unwrapped presents near each child was small, no more than three or four apiece, and many of them of lesser value yet there were no complaints. No frowns, no tears… They adored every single gift they had gotten.

“Robb, come help me mash the potatoes!” Catelyn Stark called out from the busy kitchen, of which a hundred delectable and mouthwatering scents were wafting from. “The rest of you help set the table!”

“Coming, mom!” Robb said, as he and the rest all hurried from their toys in the living room. “Is dad gonna be home soon?”

“He should be,” Catelyn answered as she buttered the warm rolls and putting them into a basket before handing them to Sansa. 

“Bran looked really good this morning!” Arya piped up as she set the plates around the table with a beaming grin showing two missing teeth. “He didn’t cough once!”

The door opened and a familiar voice cried out, “Merry Sevenmas!”

“Dad!” they all cheered, rushing to the door to meet not only Ned Stark, but a young boy, short and small in stature and confined to a wheelchair, both of their faces red with cold but wearing beaming grins nonetheless. 

“Come and smell the pie, Bran!” the young Rickon begged, jumping up and down as Ned helped take off his coat and hat, shaking the flakes of snow from them. “They’re so good!”

Robb picked up Bran, as light as a feather, and the five little Starks hurried from the kitchen back to the living room where the pie stayed cooling on the window sill. 

“I can’t believe they support him like that,” Cersei said to herself as she watched them all gather around the pies.

“I’m sorry what was that?” the spirit asked, and the blonde shook her head. 

“Nothing. It’s nothing…”

After hanging up his coat and hat, Ned kissed his wife, taking over the potatoes from Robb. “How was he in the sept?” Catelyn asked as she set out forks and knives around the crowded table.

“As good as gold and better,” Ned answered with a dreamy smile. “He wanted to sit right up front in his chair, and said he hoped people saw and remembered that it was the Smith who helped lame beggars walk and blind men see.”

“What a remarkable child,” Cersei mused softly.

“He’s getting stronger every day, Cat,” said Ned as he brought the potatoes to the table. “I can feel it.”

Catelyn smiled, and laid a hand on her husband's cheek, gifting him with a soft kiss before she called for the rest of the children to gather around the table, this time Sansa and Arya both eagerly carrying an excited Bran to the kitchen. Catelyn opened up the oven door and the smell made Cersei moan with want, but when she pulled out the Turkey her face fell.

It was beautiful, fit to be on the cover of a magazine, but it was small, roughly the size of a large chicken.

“How can a Turkey that size feed seven people?” Cersei asked, frowning as Catelyn set it before Ned.

“It’s all Ned Stark can afford,” the spirit reminded her harshly, and guilt consumed every waking part of her.

If any of the children had any thoughts about the size of the Turkey or the meager feast they didn’t dare speak it, nor did it show in their faces as Ned carved the bird and made sure each of his children and his wife had a sizeable portion before he served himself, and though it was small, the praise and complements flew freely and Catelyn looked as proud as though she had cooked a feast for fifty.

“Oh, Robb, you won’t guess who I found walking back from the sept this morning,” Ned said as he took a bit of yams.

“Who?”

“Jaime Lannister. He said to tell you that he has a fantastic job lined up for you if you wanted, helping around the office on the weekend. Just some filing, answering phones, mailing out letters, things of that nature. Said he’d start you out at $15 an hour.”

“Fifteen an hour?!”

“Mmm hmm.” Ned laughed at the spark of joy in his sons face. “Would you like that?”

“Yes, please! Oh my gods, now I can start saving for school, I can help out you and mom…!”

Cersei scoffed and shook her head. “Starting a sixteen year old boy out at $15 an hour. He’s doing it to spite me, you know, hiring the son of my employee and an exuberant wage.”

When the dinner was all done, Catelyn went into the living room and returned with the pie, a beautiful deep brown pecan. She wrung her hands together nervously as Ned cut a sliver of a piece, the rest of the family watching eagerly with a heavy air of anticipation as he took a bite, his face betraying nothing until he swallowed and looked up at her, a slow grin growing on his face.

“An absolute triumph,” he announced, and Catelyn laughed, and the kids all applauded as she dolled out the slices, one for each with hers and Ned’s being considerably smaller.

After the plates were cleared away, with not a speck of leftovers to show for it, Ned poured the children glasses of sparkling cider and he and Cat a glass of wine, lifting his glass high in the air and they all followed. “To the founder of the feast, Cersei Lannister!”

Cersei blinked and smirked, crossing her arms across her chest, looking to the spirit with a smugness. “See? I’m not all bad!”

The Stark children all grimaced at the sound of the name, all except Bran. Catelyn scoffed and lowered her drink. “The founder of the feast indeed,” she barked, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “I wish she was here, I’d give her a piece of my mind to feast upon.”

“My dear, the children,” Ned spoke softly. “Sevenmas Day.”

“It should be Sevenmas Day when someone drinks to the health of a bit-... a person like that.” Seeing the look on her husbands eyes Catelyn sighed and lifted her drink again, the children following reluctantly. “I’ll drink to him not for his sake but for yours and the days. Long life to her… she’ll be very merry and very happy, I have no doubt.”

“To Mrs. Lannister,” the children all muttered and taking sips of drink.

Bran caught his fathers eyes and smiled, raising his glass triumphantly. “To Mrs. Lannister! And Gods bless us! Everyone!” He took a drink and was launched into a fitful cough.

“Tell me,” Cersei asked, unable to look away from the the small boy. “Tell me… is Bran going to live?”

“I see an empty wheelchair in the corner,” the spirit answered and tears filled her eyes.

“No… no.”

“If these shadows remained unaltered, none of my species shall find him here.” He shrugged and clasped his hands in front of his chest. “But if he’s going to die then let him die, and decrease the surplus population.”

Cersei choked back a sob as the room faded from view, keeping her eyes on Bran until the very last. 

They were under a bridge now. There was no Sevenmas joy here, just men and women huddled around trash cans with fires in them, trembling from the cold.

A man approached one of the families, a woman with two young children covered in dirt and filth, carrying a stack of wood with a noticeable heavy limp.

“Do we have enough fire?” the girl asked, pulling her paper thin coat around her tighter.

“We should,” the man answered before he pulled out two dented cans of something or other from his pocket and handing them to the children.

“Papa, where did you get this?” the girl asked.

“I didn’t steal it!” the man barked.

“Don’t yell at her!” the mother earned before she turned to her daughter, forcing a smile to her lips. “They fell out of someone’s bag at the grocery store.”

“Your fathers not a thief… not yet.” He turned and stormed away, the woman following close behind.

“Why are these people out here?” Cersei demanded, looking at the groups all huddled around their fire. “Men and women dressed in rags, children eating scraps! Why not go to a shelter, get on welfare?!”

“Have you ever visited one of these shelters?” the spirit asked her. “Have you ever felt the angry look of someone who feels like they owe them the world just because they’re on benefits?”

“That’s what it’s there for, to help! No one-... no one should judge these people for getting help.”

The woman came over and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Come back to the fire.”

The man wiped away his tears. “I want to buy my children food. I want to give them a place to live. I didn’t think… when I was laid off because of my leg, I never thought-...”

“I know, love.” 

The man took a shuddering breath. “Tomorrow you’re gonna take them down to the shelter, see if you can get a bed.”

“No!”

“Yes.”

“No!” the woman barked. “We won’t be seperated, I won’t be without you!” 

“Just until I get work!”

She twisted her husband around and took his face in her hands. “We’re a family. We stay together.”

Cersei watched as they headed back to the fire, shaking her head. “Why are you showing me this? What does this have to do with me?”

“ **ARE THEY NOT OF THE HUMAN RACE?!** ” the spirit boomed, and when Cersei whipped around to see his red hair striking grey, and wrinkles pulling at his blue eyes. 

“Are… why are you growing old?”

“Because, it is time to leave.” 

Cersei swallowed hard. “Now? Well I- take me back to my bed then.” The spirit laughed his deep laugh once more, only this time without amusement or humor. “Please. It’s cold, this place is strange, don’t leave me.”

His laugh continued, growing louder and louder until it echoed all around her, and in a flashing blinding light the spirit was gone, and Cersei was left alone...


	5. Chapter 5

Cersei shivered as a blast of cold whipped around her. The poor men and women under the bridge had disappeared with the large red headed spirit, leaving her quite alone and quite afraid. A ghostly wind moaned, making her shudder, and she retreated further under the bridge. A sea of an eerie fog crept in, extinguishing the fires that had been left behind. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something slow and dark, and when she turned and saw what it was it took everything in her not to run and scream.

His face was a wrinkled dark blue, with a ring of sharp icy thorns around his queer head that looked like it had been carved from ice rather than made of flesh. His eyes were as blue as a body deprived of breath, and he wore a harsh metal outfit of cold rolled black and grey steel. He did not move, he did not speak, and Cersei trembled when she approached him. 

“Are you… are you the ghost of Sevenmas future?” she asked in a small scared voice. He said nothing and Cersei forced out a fearful laugh. “Not- not very talkative are you?”

Again nothing but silence as an answer. Any faux amusement fell, and she steeled whatever nerves she had left. “You… you scare me,” she admitted. “More than any ghost I’ve met but I’m… I’m willing to follow, and learn.” She licked her dry lips. “Please lead on. Time is… it’s precious to me.”

He pointed with a bony blue finger with a dagger like nail on the end of it, with a horrible screeching creaking sound of his armor and Cersei shuddered when she heard it but followed his finger. The bridge melted away in a river of black and a rainy night in the city replaced it, with two men laughing and talking as they walked along the rain soaked streets.

“These men, I work with them,” she said with a gentle smile. “We run into each other all the time at the stock exchange.”

“So did they catch the man who did it?” the first man asked.

“Didn’t you hear? Police found the poor guy in his apartment with a noose around his neck,” the second answered. “The news said he lost his job because the shit house made him sick, and then she refused to give him a break on the mortgage.”

“Can't really blame the guy, I guess.” He laughed a loud belly laugh. “Hell I would have done it myself years ago if she was worth wasting the cost of a bullet on.”

His companion snickered. “I think you’d be hard pressed to find someone in this city who WOULDN’T like to do what he did. Do you know who she left all her money too?”

“Probably the company.” The man sneered an ugly sneer. “It’s not like the old bitch had any friends she could leave it too.”

The two men laughed and carried on with their walk, fading away into the darkness.

“Do these people have any respect for the dead?” Cersei spat. She looked towards the spirit. “Why did I have to see that just now? What did I have to do with this conversation?”

The blue spirit said nothing, and just pointed again. A morgue took the place of the darkened street, and a body zipped in a heavy plastic bag laid upon the slab. Cersei walked slowly towards the body, and reached for the zipper, trembling greatly. When her fingers brushed against the cold metal she yanked them back as if she had been burned.

“No,” she snarled, whipping around to see the blue spirit. “No, you can’t make me do this! This is the one thing I will NOT do, you can’t make me! Besides there must be SOMEONE in this city who feels some emotion because of this person's death, I DEMAND to see that person!”

The spirit pointed, and a run down, ramshackle pawnshop appeared before them. “This is a foul part of town,” she muttered. “You must have made a mistake.” He just pointed to the door and Cersei took a deep breath before walked through the wall to uproarious laughter.

“Are those stones real?” the man, an old wrinkled man with browning teeth behind the counter asked as he looked at a gold necklace dotted with rubies.

A very familiar necklace.

“It is, and it’s real gold too,” a much woman with a shawl wrapped around her hair answered.

“You wouldn't be trying to get one over on me, aye Olenna?”

“You know me better than that Walder. And I can rest assured you won’t be inquiring as to how I came across these items?”

“Everyone has a right to look out for themselves,” the man called Walder said as he examined the matching earrings. 

“Besides,” Olenna shrugged. “If a dead woman wanted to hold onto these, she should have been a bit more decent in her lifetime. Maybe then she would have had someone in the hospital room with her as she laid there gasping out her last, alone.”

Walder nodded in agreement and picked up a purse, with a sickening brown stain on the bottom. He gasped as he turned it over in his hands. “Tell me this isn’t what she was carrying when-.”

“It’s a genuine Targaryen leather handbag, I would have been a fool to let it go to waste,” Olenna answered, and Walder laughed again.

Cersei forced a chuckle as she watched the old man appraise the wares. “Those- those aren’t my things. They’re similar, yes but… but they’re not mine.”

“I’ll give you $183 in cash,” Walder announced when he was done. 

Olenna clicked his tongue in disappointment. “You’re hardened, Walder, no mistake.”

Walder scoffed as if he was offended. “I’m always kind to the ladies. That’s how I ruin myself.”

Cersei curled her hand into a fist when she heard them laugh again. “Spirit…” she said with rage as they faded away into nothing. “I asked to see some emotion connected to this man’s death, and you show me this perversity, this greed! Let me see some TENDERNESS!” she half screamed, half snarled. “Some depth of feeling!”

The spirit pointed and a now familiar building appeared before her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried up the stairs. “This is Ned Starks house,” she explained with a beaming grin as if the spirit wasn’t aware. “This place would liven up any spirit, even yours!” But her smile faded when she stepped through the door and heard no laughter, no joy, no screams of merriment.

The children’s toys, many of them half wrapped as though they had only gone through the motions of unwrapping them and abandoned them midway through, sat mostly untouched. Sansa was curled up in a ball in a chair, using her long red hair to try to hide her tears, while the younger girl Arya sat cuddled up in Robb’s arms on the couch, both of them in a fitful state of melancholy. Rickon sat on the floor, rolling a toy truck back and forth, but there was no joy or laughter in his eyes. 

Catelyn walked into the living room, her eyes red and wet. “Please come help set the table.” Her voice was thick in grief, and mourning, and without a word the four Starks all got up and made their way into the kitchen.

“Mommy, you’re crying again,” Rickon said, hugging her around the legs as he looked up at his mother.

“Rickon, shh!” Arya hissed but Catelyn waved her away.

“It’s alright, Arya.” She turned back to Rickon, and did her best to force a smile. “It’s just the light, baby, it hurts my eyes, that’s all.” She wiped at her eyes. “See? All better now, and thank- thank you for pointing it out, I wouldn’t want to show weak eyes to your father. He should be almost home now.”

“He’s been late these past few nights,” Robb mused. “He’s been walking slower this last week I think…”

“It’s funny, I used to see him walk home with-...” Tears rushed to the woman’s eyes again. “With Bran on his shoulders as fast as a jet sometimes.”

Robb bowed his head. “He was very light to carry, he didn’t weigh more than a feather.”

“Yes it was no trouble,” Catelyn said, gnawing at her lips. “No trouble at all…”

The front door opened and Cersei watched as Ned walked in, hanging up his coat without a word. He walked over, with the weight of the world weighing in his shoulders and wrapped his arms around Catelyn. “Hello, my love,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head. He turned and gifted a sad smile to his children as he sat down in his chair. “Hello, everyone.” Ned picked up Arya and sat her in his lap, holding her tight as if she was the only thing keeping him anchored to the earth.

“You were late, we were getting worried,” said Catelyn.

“Yes. I um… I was late because I walked by there today. I couldn’t keep away, it was beautiful and quiet and green. You can see the ducks swimming on the river. Bran, he… he…”

Ned’s lips trembled and tears welled in his grey eyes.

“Bran always loved feeding the ducks on the river,” Catelyn finished for him, and more tears flooded Ned’s eyes, and began to steam down his cheeks. He buried his head in Arya’s hair. “My boy,” he whispered, sick with grief. “My beautiful little boy…”

“Daddy, please don’t cry,” Rickon begged him. “It’s Sevenmas, you shouldn’t be sad.”

Ned laughed a strangled, tearful laugh and he nodded, wiping at the tears in his eyes as he looked up. “You’re right, Rickon. You’re right… and I shouldn’t be sad, I have all of you, all of you a blessing to be eternally thankful for.” He kissed Arya on top of her head and set her down before he stood. “I um... I ran into Jaime today, Cersei Lannister’s brother. He saw that I was a little sad, and when he asked what was the matter, I told him. And he said he was…” His lips trembled. “He was heartily sorry, and uh-...”

Ned turned away from his children, wiping at his eyes again. Cersei walked over and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Bran is apart of all of us,” she said, gazing around the room at the crestfallen faces. “For his sake, we _have_ to keep living. So long as we love one another, he will always, _always_ , be alive.”

Ned took a deep breath and forced his spine to steel. “I know, that no matter what, none of us will ever forget Bran.”

“And when we think about him,” Catelyn added, “and we remember how mild, how patient, how good he was even though he was just a little boy, we’ll realize how silly it is to fight amongst ourselves.”

The grey eyed man nodded solemnly and took another breath. “I am… a happy man,” he said, looking around the kitchen. A smile flittered to his face. “A truly happy man…”

Cersei stood there, not wiping the tears from her eyes as she watched the family embrace. “I asked for tenderness, and depth of feeling,” she said softly. “You’ve shown me that. Thank you. There’s nothing more I need to see. Take me home.”

But the spirit pointed again, and the home of the Starks faded away, and a dark abandoned cemetery took its place. Her heart leapt in her throat and her lungs clenched painfully tight. “Wha- no, I- I thought you were going to take me home!” He pointed again at a headstone, in front of a freshly dug grave, the grey rock covered in fresh fallen wet snow.

“Spirit,” she whispered through her terror, staring at the covered stone. “I have a feeling you’re about to leave me… I don’t know how I know it but I do.” The blonde licked at her lips again as tears rushed down her face. “No… no, you will tell me… you will tell me before I go near that stone… who was the man whose death made so many people happy?” 

Nothing but silence. She took a shaking step towards the stone and quickly looked back at the blue spirit. “Tell me, are- are these the shadows of the things that WILL be, or are they the shadow of the things that MAY be only?” He only pointed to the grave and Cersei took a small scared step closer. “These events CAN be changed! They can!” Another step, and more tears fell down her face. “A life CAN be made right!”

With nowhere else left to turn, Cersei reached out with a trembling hand brushed away the freezing snow, and she let out a wretched sob as she saw her own name staring back at her. She wrenched around back to the unloving figure. 

“Oh, spirit no! NO! Hear me, please, I’m not the woman I was! Wh- why would you show me this if I was past all hope?!” Cersei fell to her knees in front of him, sobs wrecking her body. “Please!” she screamed as she clutched at his armor, burning her hands with the cold of the steel but she did not care. “I will honor Sevenmas and vow to keep it all the year, I swear it! I won’t ever forget the lessons the spirits taught, I promise!” Her sobs grew louder, more frantic and desperate and she bowed her head. “Tell me! Tell me I can wipe away the writing on this stone! Spare me! Spare me, Spirit, please! PLEASE!”


	6. Chapter 6

“Spare me! Spare me, Spirit, please! PLEASE!”

Cersei wept as hard as she ever had before, her tears drowning her. The burning of the cold steel in her hands disappeared, and the frozen ground was replaced by soft silk sheets and a feather mattress. The alarm of her phone rang, bringing her out of her misery and she finally lifted her head to find her safe and sound in bed, daylight steaming through her windows. 

“I’m home… I’m home… and it- It’s morning,” she whispered, wiping away her tears. A laugh, as real and golden as any as she ever laughed before ripped past her lips. “It’s morning! IT'S MORNING! Wha- what day is it? What day?” Cersei grabbed her phone and looked at it, and her grin boarded on hysterics as she saw her calendar show December 25 on its screen. “It’s Sevenmas morning! It’s Sevenmas, I haven’t missed it! They- they did it all in one night! Of course they did, they’re spirits, they can do whatever they like!” She scrambled to her feet and fell to her knees, reaching her hands to the heavens as tears of joy raced down her face. “The Seven and Sevenmas time be praised! I say it on my knees, Qyburn! On my knees!”

Cersei hurried over to her jewelry box and screamed in merriment as she grabbed hold of her ruby necklace and earrings, the one her mother left her in her will. “They’re still here.. they’re here! Of course it is!”

She clutched the jewels to her chest and spun round and round the room, laughing and crying out in joy and jubilee. “I- I don’t know what to do!” she said aloud. She hurried over to her bed and leapt on it, laughing all the while. “I’m as happy as an angel, I’m as giddy as a drunk, I’m as merry as a child!” She threw herself back, beaming up at the ceiling for a moment before she raced to the window, opening it and breathing in the crisp winter air. A small boy was hurrying past. “Hello!” she called out to him and he stopped to stare up at her. “Merry Sevenmas!”

“Merry Sevenmas!” he called back, and her smile grew a thousand times bigger. She had never heard such a blessed greeting. 

“Do you know if the butchers shop is still open this morning? The one on the next block.”

“Only until 10.”

“Wonderful!” She leaned further out the window. “Do you know the prized Turkey they’ve had in the window this last week? The 40 pounder?”

“The one that’s as big as me?”

Cersei laughed and nodded. “It’s a pleasure talking to you! Yes that one! Go and buy it!”

The boy scoffed. “Yeah right!”

“No, I’m serious! Go and buy it and tell the butcher to bring it here! Do it and I’ll give you $20! Come back in less than ten minutes and I’ll give you $50!”

The blonde laughed as the boy ran off like a shot. She dressed herself in her finest, bundled herself up and appeared on the streets of the city to wish Merry Sevenmas to the world. Everyone was out and about this fine morning, and she greeted everyone with a smile on her face and a song in her heart. She came across two men who she had met yesterday, one of them shrinking back in fear when she approached them and the other glaring.

“Mrs. Lannister,” Davos said crossly, and she took his hands in hers.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, I know you must be… less than pleased to see me. But I wanted to know how sorry I am for my abhorrent behavior the other day. And I would like to make amends for it…” She learned forward and whispered in the older man’s ears a sum that made his eyes bulge and his hand clutch his chest.

“You can’t be serious!” he gasped.

“I am, and not a single penny less. A great many back payments in that, I promise.” She laughed as Davos whispered the sum to Sam who beamed at the blonde.

“I- I don’t know what to say!” Sam cried and Cersei shook her head.

“Don’t say anything. I’m very obliged to you. Bless you, and Merry Sevenmas.”

“She’s right there!” Cersei turned and caught sight of the young boy with a butcher holding the largest Turkey she had ever seen.

“Excellent!” Cersei beamed, hurrying over to meet them. She got out her wallet and handed the $50 to the boy and the money for the turkey to the butcher along with a generous tip that left him wide eyed and stuttering.

“Take this to this address,” she told him, writing the address down on a slip of paper and handing it to him. “To a man named Ned Stark, get it there as quick as you can.”

“Yes- yes of course, ma’am!”

“Don’t tell him who sent it, just say it was an anonymous gift then take the rest of the day off. It’s Sevenmas for Gods sake!”

“I will ma’am!”

She beamed as she clapped him on the shoulder, holding open the door of the cab and sent him on his way. Cersei made her way through the streets, wishing everyone she saw a Merry Sevenmas, singing along with the carolers she so often sneered at when she passed by and tipping them as generously as she did the butcher, and walked, skipped and danced her way to an apartment where she could hear soft adoring voices behind the door and it made her smile.

Was there anything as good on this earth as two people in love?

She knocked and when Jaime, dressed in a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt opened the door, he stared at her with wide shocked eyes. “Cersei…?”

“Hi, Jaime. Do you mind if I come in?”

“Um… of- of course.”

Jaime moved out of the way and Cersei stepped in, letting him lead her to the living room. Brienne, dressed in a pale pink housecoat with a string of newly gifted sapphires around her neck, stood up quickly from the couch.

“Merry Sevenmas,” Cersei said with a friendly grin.

“Merry Sevenmas,” Brienne replied, confusion thick in her voice as she looked to Jaime for an explanation.

“Uh Brienne this is Cersei, my sister. Cersei, this is Brienne, my wife.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Brienne said with a timid smile. 

Cersei chuckled. “I think you mean it’s a surprise.” 

“That too,” she admitted.

“Yeah, it is a surprise,” Jaime said, coming around and standing in front of the blue eyed woman as if to shield her from insults that would have surely come had they met just a day before. “Yesterday you made it very clear you didn’t want to come.”

“I know. I said a lot of things. That Sevenmas was ridiculous, that you were ridiculous for celebrating it. 

He pursed his lips at his twin. “That was the jist of it.”

“Well I uh…. I’ve come for three reasons, actually. First to tell you I’m sorry for what I said. About Sevenmas and everything else.” Her eyes glittered to the tall woman behind him. “What I said was ridiculous, and I was wrong. I didn't know it then, but I do now.”

Jaime’s face fell, confusion brushing his features but he allowed her to continue. “Second, I came to meet your wife, who is far more beautiful than I could have ever imagined.”

A day before they would have thought she was mocking, but Cersei said it with such truth, and such reverence that both of them knew she was speaking from the heart. “And I must say, that necklace looks stunning on you, Brienne. It’s like you were born to wear sapphires.”

A faint blush tickled her cheeks, and she gave another shy little smile as she reached up and lightly brushed her fingers against the blue gemstones. “Thank you. Jaime gave them to me just this morning.”

“He was right to do so.” Cersei turned back to her twin, who looked positively elated at the transcription in his living room. “Lastly if… if the invitation to dine with you is still open, I um… I accept. If you’ll have me.”

Jaime beamed at his sister and hurried over to wrap his arms around her. “Of course it is!” She felt his grip tense though and he pulled back slightly, any merriment on his face long gone. “Tyrion is going to be here though. He’s… he’s actually coming pretty soon, me and Brienne were about to go upstairs and get dressed.”

“That’s fine.” She smiled, doing her best to convey that he had nothing to worry about. “There’s actually a few things I’d like to say to him as well.”

Tyrion did arrive in less than an hour, and when Jaime led him and Shae into the living room and he spotted his sister, he froze as if he had spotted a lioness ready for the kill.

Cersei stood from the couch, clasping her hands in front of her. “Hello, Tyrion.”

Tyrion glared up at Jaime who stood nervously by his side. “You told me she wasn’t going to be here…”

“I wasn’t, I- I hadn’t planned on it when he invited you,” Cersei said quickly. She walked over and kneeled down before him, the same way Jaime did whenever he had something serious to say to him. “I-... I wanted to, no I need to, I want and need to apologize, Tyrion. For **_everything_ ** I’ve done and said to you over the years. I was cruel, and angry. If you hate me, I understand, and I will not behold you a grudge, but I… I’m sorry. And I love you, Tyrion. So much.” She reached out and rested her hand on his cheek, the first time she touched her youngest brother since she was a child and she slapped him. “You have our mother’s eyes,” she said softly as she looked into the pale green of them. “She would be honored to share that with you, Tyrion. I know she would.” 

Tears welled in the dwarfs' eyes, as they did Cersei’s and a moment later both of them were hugging and crying with no thought of shame and embarrassment. Cersei and Tyrion both reached out and grabbed hold of Jaime’s hand and yanked him down to the floor and wrapped their arms around him, and as the three Lannisters shared an embrace on the most glorious of mornings, Cersei wept and begged forgiveness for the years lost and time wasted. 

And that night, after a fantastic dinner in which Cersei insisted on hosting the meal next year and promising to spare no expense, they played twenty questions where Cersei won the first round when she excitedly called out ‘cat’.

The next day she showed up early by nearly half an hour and giggled a most un-Cersei giggle as she waited eagerly for Ned Stark to show up.

“9:15, he’s late!” she squeed, bouncing up and down in her chair in anticipation. She could not have planned this any better. 

Cersei heard the bell ring overtop the door and Cersei had to force her beaming smile in a scowl, the expression utterly foreign to her now but she did her best.

“Stark!” she barked as he hurried to his desk, hoping he had gotten there before her. “Come here!” The grey eyed man swallowed hard as he walked in her office, trembling slightly. “What do you mean by coming here this time of day?”

“I’m so sorry, Ma’am, I just- the time, it got away from me,” he said quickly, wringing his hands together. “Yesterday, a, an anonymous- the feast and and the day, it-.... I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again!”

“You’re damn right it won’t. I will not stand for this any longer! And therefore-.”

“Ma’am, please.”

“And therefore!” she growled, slamming her fist down on the desk. “...I’m about to raise your salary!”

Ned blinked, and Cersei laughed as hard as she ever had. “Merry Sevenmas, Ned! Merry, Merry Sevenmas!” She came around her desk and hurried over to him, wrapping the shocked man in a warm hug. “I’m going to raise your salary,” she said with a beaming grin as she took him by the shoulders. “I’m going to raise your salary and do whatever I can to help your struggling family. I swear it on the Seven.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll discuss your affairs over a nice glass of Northern brandy.” She got out a bottle she bought this morning just for the occasion and two glasses. “But go and raise the temperature on the thermostat before you dot another I, Ned Stark! It’s freezing in here.”

His shock finally faded, and a large beaming smile lit up his usually solemn face. “Yes… yes of course!”

“And turn on some music!” she called out to him as he hurried to the thermostat. “It’s far too quiet in here as well!”

Cersei Lannister was better than her word. She did all that she said she would, and more. To Brandon Stark, who got well, she became a second mother. She became as good a friend, as good a master and as good a woman as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. And it was always said of her that she knew how to keep Sevenmas well throughout the year, if anyone alive possessed the knowledge.

And so, as Brandon Stark, and the many of the hundreds of variations of the patient mild boy observed; Gods bless us. 

Gods bless us, everyone.


End file.
